In Time We Fall
by Miss.Mil
Summary: In that moment, Jack choses to look at her. She can feel his eyes travelling her profile, tracing the lines of her jaw and by passing the areas he knows she has scars. Scars that reflect her life as a solider.


_So I have stalled a bit on 'A Year in Motion', and this little number popped out. I have always thought it a bit haunting that the original SG-1 died at the hands of Ra in the first part of Moebius. Although we never see it, I always wanted to do a S/J scene._

 _Enjoy!_

* * *

Hot.

Desert.

Sand.

Three words to describe the thing Colonel Samantha Carter hates the most. And yet here she is. Trapped in Ancient Egypt of all places. Land of the sand. Land of the sun. And land of the god-damn-get-me-out-of-here.

She has spent so many sleepless nights over the past few years imagining the 'what-ifs' as the howling sand storms kept sleep away. The same scenario kept coming to her mind; what if they had never left the damn SGC?

Deep down she knows that they should never have used the jumper to travel through time.

The prospect was too taunting, even for her. A chance to see Einstein's theories in action.

But it was a mistake.

Ironic. The best advances in the world usually start as mistakes.

And this was one mistake they wouldn't come back from.

Teal'c kneels beside her, the figure of a God standing before them haunting his vision. He kneels proudly, unwavering in his devotion to a cause that he would not live to see succeed.

Unfortunately for Teal'c, this God is going to succeed, where they all failed. This God is going to kill them. And the luck of SG-1 isn't going to save them this time.

Teal'c is silent, and accepting of his death. He has fought on for his people for eight long years, and his death will be a heroic one. Even if word of his death will never reach his people.

Sam can tell that Teal'c is silently thankful that none of his people will be here to see his failure.

O'Neill kneels on her other side, protesting loudly at what the harsh sandstone is doing to his aging knees.

He knows he is going to die, and he will joke right until the end.

Sam feels that he is determined not to look at her. Determined not to show his failing.

The reality is sinking in that she is going to die with him.

At least they never have to know what it's like to live without the other. And they will never have to face their fear of what their love would do to the one who is left behind.

Their life in Ancient Egypt flashes before her eyes; the terror of the first few months that enveloped their whole world as they realised they were stuck here indefinitely. If she is honest with herself, that terror has never really gone away.

She can still remember vividly the first night Jack came to her.

It was the first flicker of hope she had felt in months, as if the slight rise in the tent cover signalling his entrance was a beacon of light calling her to him.

They'd resisted for so long, clinging to the small flicker of hope that one day they'd get back to the right time.

But even now Sam scoffs at the idea. There was never a right time. Not for them, or the team. It was always SG-1 fighting to the end, coming out the other side with a more few scars and a whole heap of luck that was sure to run out.

Somewhere, somehow, someone had to be watching over them.

She knows for sure that this time it isn't Daniel.

They had their time together.

And it had to be enough.

Ra orders them to their feet, and they are pushed outside by the Horus guards with frightening force.

They will be executed in front of everyone.

It's not exactly how she envisioned herself dying. But death on a battlefield was a far more likely outcome for a woman who spent more time as a soldier than a scientist.

God, what she wouldn't give for her own Beretta right now.

The harsh desert light burns her eyes as they are again forced to their knees.

A crowd stands before them, calling and screaming. If Daniel is out there, Sam can't see him.

She feels bile rise in her throat, and she is struck again by a memory of another time. Although it was only a few months ago, it feels more like a lifetime.

A lifetime ago where the four of them were laughing around a small fire, the desert winds making them sit a little closer than normal. Jack's shoulder was close to hers, his hand snaking around to rest lightly on her hip.

It was the first time that Sam had felt like there was nothing wrong with the world, and that they were just on some other planet. It was so ironic that Earth could feel so little like home.

Their relationship had bloomed in the early sands of Earth, still so forbidden and new. Touching each other was something they really couldn't get sick of.

The very next morning Sam had climbed out of their tent and promptly vomited. Jack's face had slowly morphed to mirror her own terror when the vomiting didn't disappear for the next week.

She still wasn't sure if she was happy or disappointed that it had turned out to be a particularly bad case of food poisoning.

Looking back now, she is almost grateful that there is no child to leave behind in this unforgiving world. She never wanted to be responsible for introducing blue eyes to the Ancient Egyptian gene pool.

But a part of her never stopped wondering.

Ra yells something that goes straight to the pit of her stomach.

The staff weapon opens, and without so much as a blink, the guard fires a blast of plasma straight into the chest of her dearest friend.

Sam can't help but feel it is such an undignified death for a warrior that has sacrificed so much.

She thinks of Rya'c, feeling oddly emotional that a child five thousand years into the future has now lost both his parents.

The guard points his weapon at her, and then at Jack.

Please let me go first, she thinks. It's a selfish act, but she can't bear to see Jack hit by another staff blast. She still sees his body falling backwards, the sounds of battle oddly quiet as his body hits the ground with a thump. It was the longest three strides she could ever remember taking. And the nightmares, even a year on, have still never gone away.

Somewhere, some other false god must be listening.

The guard changes his mind, and before she can blink, the weapon is back at her chest.

In that moment, Jack choses to look at her. She can feel his eyes travelling her profile, tracing the lines of her jaw and by passing the areas he knows she has scars.

Scars that reflect her life as a solider.

And take away any inch of femininity she has left.

Not that she minds. She's pretty sure Janet told her once that guys dig scars on girls. God only knows that a certain General had been more than fascinated by them.

She turns her head slowly to look at him. She'd rather not know when her time is up.

His eyes are dull, reflecting a lifetime of regret back into her soul.

She can only hope that, as she hears the final whoosh of air when the weapon discharges, he can see in her eyes how sorry she is they ended up here in the first place.

She isn't going to say the words.

They don't deserve to do that to each other.

 _I love you._


End file.
